The Stolen Child
by Anna McNarin
Summary: Is it fate? Is it even right? No one can say for sure, but it looks like they're going to find out. Rated T for suggestive dialogue.
1. Excerpt 1

Eleven years old. She could scarcely believe it, but it was true. He had grown so fast she felt like she had almost missed it, maybe because this felt like the longest she'd ever been allowed to stay. So many children through the years, their faces and names blending together until one was as indistinguishable as the next. Oh, sure, there was the Hall of Fame and the Hall of Infamy, and they stood out in her mind well enough, but all the ones without pictures felt about as substantial as a dream.

It had surprised her the day her husband spoke aloud the very same thought she had dancing on the tip of her tongue. There they were, not even three months in, she at the vanity brushing the knots out of her winter pink hair, her husband hopping around with his foot stuck in his pajama leg when he suddenly struck the floor and said it. She supposed it must have been the shock of abruptly having a clear thought at the end of such a long day that caused him to fall, but she had set down her brush, helped him untangle his foot, lovingly brought her eyes up into his vivid green ones and agreed. This child was different.

She couldn't pinpoint what exactly made the small boy a cut above the rest, something inside her simply said he was. Sometimes she wondered if it was his passing resemblance to her husband, minus the buck teeth of course, that made him so. Of course, his coloring made her think of her father. She always shook her head at that. It was silliness. Not all children looked like their natural parents, and it wasn't unheard of to resemble someone without sharing the same genes. Other times she figured it was due to similar interests like extreme sports, which both males were overtly fond of. Then there were the little things like the garbage fiasco last year, or the times they tried to give her a day off but couldn't keep out of trouble. The little things that had made them a makeshift family of sorts, all the little stolen moments that rightfully should have belonged to his parents. It was all those tiny pieces of his life that he shared with them that let her stop musing long enough to admit that she didn't need to pinpoint a thing. She already knew.

The sleeping boy before her knew how special he was, the Hall of Timmy was proof enough of that. She doubted he understood the full scope of it though. What child would? With each passing day he endeared himself to them that much more. When they thought they couldn't possibly care for a child more, they realized they loved him. Hearing their feeling reciprocated in his tiny, nasally voice, brought smiles to their face so large one might have thought they had just cheated Death. To have your child wrapped in your arms saying he loves you all the while clinging to you, was a beautiful thing. Then to wake up one day and have him wish they had a baby, it made her eyes swell.

A little over a year had passed since then. Timmy had turned eleven and through all the craziness, mad schemes, and wishes, he was even more infatuated with his baby god brother than before. That was another thing she wasn't sure he was aware of, that he constantly referred to the baby as his little brother, or just his brother, and to onlookers they were. Timmy and Poof acted the part perfectly, alternating between joy and complete irritation. She had even heard Cosmo refer to Timmy as Poof's older brother, as if he were their natural son.

A sigh escaped her bare lips, unconsciously running her hand through Timmy's messy, mud brown hair. The boy responded in turn by nestling deeper into his covers, and pulling closer to where she sat on the bed. She pulled her hand back beside her, fearing she might wake him. As much as she knew in her heart of hearts that Timmy was more than just her god son and as much as the knowledge brought her joy, it brought a hint of guilt when her thoughts unwillingly turned to his parents. His mother should be the one in her place, messing with her son's hair, answering his questions about life. It broke her heart that she wasn't. It was herself, always. Mrs. Turner never watched her son simply to watch him, and did her best to avoid questions in general. Such a sweet child, he didn't deserve such distracted parents. Yet the selfish side of her was glad for it, happy for the small gift of stolen moments with her god son.

The moonlight in the room played against her and the boy, illuminating them to an almost ethereal status, even more so for the man with shocking green hair who silently came up from behind her. His feet made not a sound as he walked, matching her uncommon choice of size. Indeed, it was hard to tell if he was touching the floor at all regardless of the steps he took. Clad in race car pyjamas and bare feet he half reached out to touch his wife, then frowned, as if trying to decide on something important. Perhaps he couldn't fathom her strange behaviour and it frightened him. Perhaps he knew what had brought her to the boy's side. Either way his voice was soft and kind when finally spoke her name.

"Wanda?"

She brought her eyes up off the bed to meet his as he came closer, a small smile brightening her face as she felt his hand on her arm. "I'm all right. I just. I feel guilty, Cosmo."

He embraced her, his arms loosely holding to her, head on her shoulder. His hand drifted and received a playfully admonishing smack. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. It's not your fault, you know."

Leaning back against him she felt his knee lean in against her leg to better support them both. "I know. If anything it's Jorgen's, but I still don't see why it was necessary. It's so, so selfish." Her fist sank into the mattress. "How are we going to tell him? How can we?"

She felt a shift in his breathing, and knew he was giving it all he had to think of an answer for her. Eventually, he started rubbing her arm and placed a light kiss atop her head. "The same way we tell him anything."

Breaking out of her husband's hold, she hung her head only to meet him eye to eye. "I don't know if that will work this time."

"It will work, Pumpkin. We just have to trust Timmy."

She resumed her position against his chest. "That's your answer for everything."

He brought his lips in close to her ear. "Hmm, not always, sometimes it's cheese."

She smiled at that. "Cosmo, did you check on Poof before coming out here?"

Cosmo eyed her ear like pudding and quickly latched on as if it were a delicate candy, the sudden 'wet willy' feeling causing her to squirm.

He hadn't heard a thing she'd just said.

"Cosmo," she said a little more forcefully.

An incoherent playful little "hum?" was his reply, and she elbowed him in the gut forcing him to relinquish her ear. Again, he looked like a kid who got caught raiding the cookie jar.

"Did you check on Poof?" She reiterated, speaking slowly and purposefully.

He smiled. "Of course I did. He's sound asleep. Speaking of which," he trailed off and went for her ear again only to brush the side of her neck as she moved out of his way.

"Cosmo, don't. What if Timmy were to wake up and see us?"

"He's out pretty good. I don't think we have to worry, especially since he's coming off that nasty flu bug. Although you're right, it is weird being next to his bed, let's move it to ours."

A light chuckle at his enthusiasm bubbled up from her. "We sleep in separate beds, silly."

"I could fix that. It's a dumb rule anyway."

"It's there for a reason." Wanda paused, considering the boy in the bed. He no longer had a fever, but he was still colourless in his cheeks. "Do you think he noticed what type of flu he caught?"

Cosmo frowned. "I don't think so, it hit pretty late in the evening. He's slept through the worst of it somehow."

"You don't think he'll question it?"

"My guess is he'll be too happy to stay home from school to care."

Wanda smiled. "You're probably right."

Cosmo blinked. "I am?"

Her tender smile quickly grew into a teasing one as she stood to face him, bringing her arms round his neck. "Hmm, and do you know what else you're right about?"

Cosmo smiled at her. "Not a clue, but if I get to hold you, who cares?"

Wanda laughed into his shirt and pressed her cheek to his, whispering softly in his ear. "You're right about the bed thing."

"Oh yeah?" The merest flash of pride at being right twice in one night washed over his gentle face before being replaced by another look entirely, with an accompanying, "oh yeah!" and a wider smile.

Wanda cast one last glance at Timmy, assuring herself that he was well enough to sleep without her there. She ran her hand over his forehead just to be sure, as Cosmo was tugging lightly on her other one. Silently, she made a mental note to see to it the boy took his medicine when he woke in the morning. Cosmo was right, everything would turn out, even if she couldn't see it. Her light giggle was the last trace of the two as they vanished from the room.

* * *

_If you're lost or confused, message me. Heck, message me anyway! FYI, I'm not crazy about parts of this, but my editors said they couldn't find anything wrong with it. Maybe it's me. I'm the author, I think I'm allowed to be picky. The title is a direct reference to a W.B. Yates poem by the same name, I highly recommend it.  
_

_Thanks for reading! Now review darn it!_


	2. Excerpt 2

In short, he felt strange. Not bad, not good, or even water in your shoes strange. Just strange. Just one of the inexplicable things about Mondays, he guessed. Maybe he was going into puberty early. Now _that_ thought horrified him, and he really hoped that wasn't the case. Was eleven even early for that?

_Note to self, ask Dad what age puberty hits boys._ Timmy paused in his reflections to imagine just what reaction his father might have at such a question. _He'd be happy until he heard the question, then he'd scream like a girl and faint, Mom will scold me and drag him off, still confused I'll have to go ask Cosmo and Wanda. Oo-kay, I'll just ask Wanda. Wait, I can't ask Wanda that, it's embarrassing! Gahhhhh! Mental anguish!_

"TURNER!"

"Gahhh!" _Hey, there's gum under my desk._

Timmy peered up from the floor to find Mr. Crocker staring at him, hunched over further than usual with a very dominant smirk prowling about his angular features. The lanky man popped back straight as a rod, rocked, and turned to walk back to the chalkboard, keeping his eyes locked on him over one stooping shoulder.

"Nice of you to join the living, Turner. I was just about to call the nurse, your spasms were distracting the rest of the class. Now, perhaps you'd care to tell me what 460,369,000,000,000 times 42 squared is?"

"What?! That can't be fifth grade math." Out of the corner of his eye he could see A.J.'s hand in the air as he got back in his chair.

Crocker flashed him a feral smile. "It isn't. Now, lets- what's that smell?"

Dozens of eyes looked round at the floor, ceiling, desks, outdoors, with a knowing gleam in every pupil.

"It smells like," Crocker closed his eyes and inhaled. "Yes! It smells like magic, which means FaIry goDpaReNTs!" His chiseled, onyx eyes were now ablaze with either passion or drugs, Timmy was willing to bet on both. "But where? And why? Nothing out of the ordinary has happened today."

_Says you,_ Timmy thought, once again tuning out the ranting man. _You didn't sneeze out glittery yellow snot monsters this morning at breakfast._ Speaking of breakfast, he was still hungry, chasing down snot monsters before school didn't exactly leave him time to eat. Luckily for him, Wanda had poof-ed him up one of those on-the-go yogurt pouch things before shooing him out the door to catch the bus.

Poof. Timmy's eyes drifted down towards his snoozing green pencil. Wanda had stayed home with Poof today. His first tooth was starting to come in and everyone agreed no one need a cranky baby at school, especially a fairy baby. Timmy rubbed his tickling nose, slightly jealous of the infant who didn't have to listen to his temperamental nut of a teacher. The lunch bell rang just as he sneezed. With the distraction of twenty odd children racing for the door and the limited attention span of the majority, no one noticed Mr. Crocker go sliding into the desks with an less than masculine cry and loud crash.

Timmy's lunch bag landed on the table with a plop, followed by himself in the seat next to Chester who was already face first into his sandwich. A.J. leaned around the blond to catch his eye.

"So Timmy, up for a bit of the new Crash Nebula video game at my place after school?"

Wanda had packed his lunch he discovered, as he dumped the contents of his bag into a pile on the table. The fairy brand everything gave it away, which meant his mother had forgotten. Again. He frowned. Wanda hadn't thrown in any cookies. For once it was all healthy, or he thought it was, sometimes it was hard to tell with Fairy World products. Shrugging, he proceeded to chow down on what looked like a ham and cheese sandwich before realizing A.J. had been calling his name.

"What's with you today, Timmy? You've been out of it more than usual."

Chester swallowed to breathe. "Yeah, usually you stop before you hit the floor."

"Sorry guys, today has just been weird."

A.J. stared. "You're not still sick are you?"

"Wish I could get sick and stay home from school for a week."

"It's boring, trust me."

Chester balked. "But you've got all those neat video games, how could you get bored?"

"Oh it's possible when your mom decides to freak out and confine you to bed, never to move unless it's to the bathroom."

"Wow, that's harsh." A.J. sympathized.

"She even called over my neighbor, Mrs. Dinkleberg, to watch me in the afternoons because she couldn't take that much time off work. Worse yet, I was only sick for a day, but she said she didn't want to take the chance. Mrs. Dinkleberg is annoying."

"You had fun turning her hair different colors without her noticing," a tiny voice beside his ear pipped up. A faint smile crossed the boy's face. His godfather had finally woken from his nap, and he was right, it had been fun. Cosmo had even let him borrow his wand so he could try to do it himself. Of course he missed a lot, and in his opinion the walls were much improved by it, but Wanda had pointed out that his parents would probably notice the bright neon colors and changed it back to normal.

"Yeah, but that got boring after a day." Timmy replied.

"It probably did." A.J. said.

"What?" Timmy asked, startled.

"I said you could reread all your comics, and you just said it got boring after a day. I was agreeing with you."

Timmy laughed. "Oh, yeah, right." He quickly finished off the rest of his sandwich, chasing it with chocolate milk. _Cookies. I want a nice big bag of chocolate chip cookies, 'cause this day sucks._

He tipped his lunch bag on it's end and shook to see if anything fell out. Knowing Wanda, she probably had enchanted the bag to only give him his dessert if he ate his sandwich first. Sure enough, a decent sized bag of chocolate chip cookies fell out.

"Yes," he cheered.

"Yes?" A.J. questioned him.

"Cookies!" Timmy held the bag aloft to gleam in the sunlight, causing the two beside him to "ooo". "Want some?"

"Sure!" Both A.J. and Chester chorused.

The bag lasted the rest of lunch, never seeming to run out of gooey cookies. Timmy was sad to have to stow it in his pocket, but it had drastically improved his mood so it wasn't all bad. His good mood seemed contagious too, because Chester and A.J. were also talking in high spirits as the three headed back to class, which was usually cause for dread.

Mr. Crocker was notably missing when they entered the classroom to take their assigned seats. A.J. stopped just shy of actually sitting at his desk, turning to Timmy who had already flopped into his chair.

"Timmy. Video games after school? My place?"

"Sure. Pizza?"

"Of course. Come at four, that'll give you time to drop your bag at home and me to finish the homework."

Aptly timing her entrance at the end of A.J.'s sentence, Principal Waxelplax's plump figure trotted into view followed by a nondescript woman with flaxen hair.

"Hello class, it would seem Mr. Crocker has had another accident and will be gone for the rest of the day." A thunderous roar of cheers left the principle giggling. She continued, "seems to think he was attacked by a small glittery yellow slug. This is his replacement, Miss Duncan. Have fun."

Just as she arrived, she left, muttering under her breath, oblivious to the students watching her. Timmy turned to the substitute and watched a pretty grin light up her face as she greeted everyone. Yeah, his day had just got a whole lot better, and he felt himself returning the smile.

"Timmy," Cosmo whispered from the desk top. "You forgot your parents are going out tonight."

"OK, today officially sucks," he mumbled, "that means I won't be able to go to A.J.'s. Do something Cosmo, can't you make Vicky sick or something instead of sleeping all day?"

"Hey," the green fairy argued back," it's not my fault Poof is teething and I stayed up all night with him so you and Wanda could sleep. Besides," he smiled cheerily, "Crocker's scratchy, ill-toned voice is perfect background noise. I always fall asleep when he talks."

Timmy sighed. His godfather could be so weird at times. "Fine. I'll get Wanda to make Vicky sick when I get home."

"You don't think I could do it?" Cosmo asked indignantly.

Timmy half smiled at him. "Not at this distance, you'd give half the school the flu."

Cosmo laughed. "Yeah, you're probably right. Hey, how about you do it."

"Uh, no, magic, duh."

Cosmo shook his head as best a pencil could. "No, I mean borrow my wand again, it cheered you up last time."

"True, but Wanda was there to supervise. Won't she get mad if we do this?"

"Who said we'd tell her!"

Timmy thought it over. "True. OK, soon as the class bell rings we find Vicky and hit her hard."

"Sounds good!"

The bell rang.

* * *

_Ending this here is probably mean of me, but I want to leave it up to your imaginations to decide what happened. This isn't meant so much as one long story as it is short excerpts from Timmy's life as it's turning out. Meaning, I could decide to end at any time, which is why this still is listed as complete. I will, however, admit to having one other addition floating around in my head. As always, if you have questions or comments, message me! :) I'm happy to answer._


	3. Excerpt 3

As far as ruts in a tree went he supposed it was a dandy, possibly one to be proud of. Although, he couldn't quite agree to that, even if he would be proud of it, because of who the creator of the admirable rut was. His lovely pink squirrel of a wife was assuredly giving her legs more of a work out than they had seen in recent months, years even. It wasn't exactly something he tried to keep track of, so he wasn't completely sold on his views on the passing of time. For all he knew, she had run a marathon last week and he just forgot. There was no forgetting the look on her face, though. The hardening of her winter pink eyes to a ruddy, burnt color and her already showing crowfeet cracking like poorly mixed cement pooling down pale cheeks to thinly pressed lips and a tightly set jaw; her quickened gait, the white knuckle hold on her wand. It lead to one thing: Wanda was anxious as all Hell.

It frightened him that he couldn't do a thing for himself, his wife, and especially for the two little boys below. So he sat, acorn clutched tightly in his little green paw, with half an eye on Wanda and the other half on the oldest of the two children, reminding himself to breathe.

_Accidents happen. Accidents happen. Accidents happen._ He repeated over and over to himself. Two halves of a whole idiot trying to guide a hyperactive small boy into adulthood and care for a baby at the same time? Accidents happen. _Right?_

Young Timmy Turner felt as if someone had turned his innards to rock and ice. It was all he could do to just breathe. In and out, in and out, no rushing, rushing could turn catastrophic. His palms were getting unbearably sweaty, but with little Poof tucked snugly against his back there was little he could do. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just make out his god-parents in the tree above, watching with terror very evident in their faces. Timmy brought his attention back down, angling his body in an attempt at shielding the unexplainable creature he held from the dismissive eyes of his father, who stood over his short son with a very confused look upon his strong face. The grown man's sturdy baby blues swept over the scene repeatedly, his mouth contorting with each unspoken thought. Timmy began to sweat profusely, clinging as tight as he dare to his baby god-brother, as he felt his father's gaze drift from him to the space around him and back again.

_Not good. Not good!_ Timmy cringed, watching as Mr. Turner raised a finger and opened his mouth, only to lose his gusto and retract the gestures in favor of more confusion.

The purple clad baby squirmed before going stiff. It was only a matter of minutes before he would try to dislodge himself from his protector's arms. Timmy knew it, felt it, and boy did he ever feel it. The squat and pudgy infant had just filled his pants. Disgust was now slowly seeping through the anxiety on his face, as the weight of the soggy diaper started to mold itself to his arms. He really wished his dad would hurry up and start yelling.

Timmy kicked the scorched, loose dirt at his feet. "Dad, I can."

"Uh-bub-bub, just a moment Timmy, I'm not done being confused."

The small boy's eyes drifted downward with a sigh. "Like that'll ever happen."

Mr. Turner started. "What did you say, young man?"

Timmy glared, bravado from nowhere flowing through him. "I said that'll never happen, because I didn't do this!"

Dad crossed his arms and took on his most authoritative stance. "Then why are you standing in the middle of a foot deep, scorched, charred, and otherwise barren crater so far away from our picnic table, hm?"

"I was bored. You and Mom were completely fixated with that dog."

"Hey now, you leave that cute little puppy and it's more adorable than you'll ever be owner out of this."

His face fell in disbelieve. "More adorable? Dad, it was a six year old girl in pigtails, of course she's more adorable than me! I'm a dirty, mud loving boy."

"Well, you have a point there, but you're still in trouble for this hole in the city's property, mister."

"But I didn't do it!"

"Oh no? Then you care to explain why you were engulfed in a miniature mushroom cloud seconds before I got here?" Mr. Turner paused mid-expression and sniffed. "What's that smell?"

Timmy froze. "Smell?"

His dad tapped the side of his mouth, deep in thought. "Yes, it smells just like a dirty diaper, only I don't see a baby."

_Oh crud. Oh crud. Don't panic, just think. Use your brain. _"Uh, I farted?"

Dad blinked in surprise. "Oh. OK, just don't tell your mother."

Timmy let out a breath of relief, "so son, what's that behind your back?" And inhaled hard enough to burn his throat. He couldn't hand Poof over to his Dad! Jorgen would kill him for exposing the existence of fairies to an adult.

_Great, now what, Turner?_

Run.

The word appeared so quickly in his mind it very nearly startled him into dropping his hands. He wasn't sure where it came from, but the idea of running was sticking to him like a melted band-aid on hair, so he assumed it was a good one. The only question now was, how? How was he to distract his dad long enough to get away?

"Hey, is that a green squirrel eating chocolate pudding?"

One day, Timmy figured, he would ask to meet Lady Luck and thank her for Cosmo's lack of intelligent design. _One, two, three!_

He blinked. Dad was nowhere in sight. Come to think of it, _nothing_ was in sight. He was in the middle of an empty field with a fairy baby. Alone. He brought Poof round and stared into his god-brother's big violet eyes.

"Poof, what did you do? Where are we? I didn't want to get away from everyone, just my dad. Take us back!"

His answer came in the form of a blink, a smile, and a final tell-tale grunt.

"Aw, man." Timmy cried, curling up his nose. Thrusting his head from side to side searching for a road, path, fox trail, anything other than just miles of gold stalks swaying with the wind, he finally sighed. "We're doomed."

Wanda screamed. Not only had her idiotic husband been foolish enough to conjure up a very large bowl of pudding, but her charges had vanished into the unknown in a cloud of untrained magic- all right in front of Timmy's dad. She felt some relief in that the adult human had the attention span of a kindergartner and turned away from the green, chocolate wielding squirrel on hearing the traditional "pop" made when a fairy vanished. It had given her enough time to grab Cosmo and "pop" away herself. Now, safe on the other side of the park, she was screaming, raving, and wild.

"But Wanda," Cosmo attempted, "I'm sure Poof is fine, he's with Timmy."

"With Timmy? With Timmy!" Wanda bellowed, knocking Cosmo behind his over sized bowl.

"Ah, don't yell, what has the pudding ever done to you?"

"What has the what?" Wanda rolled her gestures in exasperation. "Oh, never mind."

"Cheer up, Wanda, we'll find them."

The pink fairy pinched her eyes. "I know, Honey, and I'm sorry I yelled."

"Apology accepted!" He flew out to embrace her.

Wanda half smiled. "It's just Poof is a baby, Timmy's only eleven and."

"What?" Cosmo cut her off, digging his hands into her shoulders. "Timmy's only eleven? I thought he was older! He can't watch Poof all by himself, it's unhealthy. We have to find them, Wanda. We have to find our baby, and Timmy!"

"I know, I know."

"But how?" Cosmo cried. "They could be anywhere, Timmy has a great imagination and Poof hangs on his every word, together they're instoppable."

"Unstoppable."

"Huh?"

"You said 'instoppable', it's unstoppable."

"It is? I thought it was that guy from that show, you know the one."

Wanda groaned. "Cosmo, we have to think about where they might have gone."

"Well, I know if Timmy's dad were looking at me that way I would want to hide far, far away."

"Far, far away? How far away is that?"

"I don't know, Albuquerque, maybe."

"New Mexico?"

Cosmo lit up. "I've always wanted to be a cowboy."

Wanda shrugged. "Worth a shot, I guess."

"Yay, Albuquerque. Wanda you're the best."

"Thanks."

Timmy had been going in circles, he was sure of it, or at least partially sure. With endless fields of goldenrod on all sides it was hard to tell, but seeing how he just realized he'd been walking in a crop circle it was very possible. Worse yet, Poof refused to fly, float, or do anything other than cling to the front of his shirt, sporting a pained expression. Guessing the loaded diaper was the source of the problem, Timmy gazed down at the smaller boy.

"Can't you just magically whip up a fresh one?"

Poof's lip trembled. "Oh, no, Poof, no, don't cry. I'm sorry." Apologizing didn't help, the fairy baby burst into large, frightened tears as Timmy tried bouncing him as he had seen Wanda do on occasion.

"Everything will be fine, Poof, you're safe with me." A shadow fell on him just as he heard a very familiar voice call out.

"Huh?" He spun on his heel to see Wanda dashing towards him.

"Timmy, get down now!"

The fifth grader barely had time to think before Wanda crashed into him, knocking him and Poof to the ground. "Cosmo, I found them!"

In a literal flash, Cosmo appeared beside them, "Timmy. Wanda. Timmy. Poof. Pudding," collapsing in a heap on the ground.

Timmy turned to Wanda, who had yet to let him or Poof go. "What's with the adult size, Wanda? And why did you knock me down?"

Wanda shuddered. "Birds of prey."

"Birds of prey?"

"Fairy Vultures!" Came Cosmo's high pitched, girlish cry of fright from amongst the reeds.

"It's not a good idea to be an average fairy size in a place with overstuffed turkeys that can easily pluck you from the sky."

Timmy blinked, lost between terror and intrigue. "Where are we?"

Wanda winced. "Uh, Albuquerque."

"New Mexico?"

Cosmo laughed unevenly. "I wish, but you were here not there."

"Uh, what Cosmo's trying to say, Sport, is that yes this is Albuquerque, but not the one you're thinking of, and not the one we hoped you'd poof-ed to."

"Ok, Fairy Vultures, I get it. You're afraid, but why not just use your magic to zap them away? Self-defense is allowed, isn't it?"

"Sure it is." Cosmo answered. "It's just that Fairy Vultures are impervious to Fairy magic."

"And it's not just adult fairies they eat."

Timmy blanched. "So that shadow I saw was a, a."

"Fairy Vulture." Wanda finished.

"I want to go home now, please."

"Oh! You see Wanda, I told you Timmy had great ideas, that's his best one yet."

Wanda turned to her green eyed husband. "Is the coast clear?"

Timmy frowned. "Can't we just poof home?"

"Yes, and no."

"And that means what exactly?"

"It means," Cosmo started, peeking his head back down through the tall grass, "that yes we can, but magic attracts the Vultures and they're very, very, very fast."

"Then why didn't they get me and Poof when we arrived?"

Wanda crushed him and Poof to her chest as a dark shape passed overhead. "Luck."

"Yeah, for once you being short and prone to walking was a good thing. You blended in."

Peering out from under Wanda's arm, Timmy regarded both his god-parents with a sigh. "Then how are we going to get out of here?"

"I don't know, but I want my pudding."

Timmy paused. "Pudding? Cosmo that's it!"

"What's it?"

"I wish it would rain pudding all over Albuquerque!"

Wanda started. "Wouldn't actual rain be better?" She spoke too late. One clap of thunder and pudding fell from the sky in giant globs.

"Banana?" Wanda asked.

Cosmo shrugged. "Don't look at me."

Timmy hugged his oblivious brother. "Then yay, Poof!"

"Wanda, look at the Vultures!"

Following Cosmo's gaze, Wanda watched the massive birds in surprise. "They're confused, there's too much magic in the air. Nice going, Timmy, but next time try for rain."

"Rain-shmain, I just want to go home."

"And bathe," Wanda said sourly, as a particularly large glob landed on her head.

"Bathroom it is!"

Seconds after he spoke, Cosmo had flashed his wand, oblivious to the wide eyed expressions of alarm being thrown his way as the foursome disappeared, leaving hundreds of confused birds who didn't actually like banana flavored anything in their wake.

* * *

_Hey, look, I kept my word and wrote my other idea! Go me. The downside is, I don't have any other shorts floating in this head of mine just yet, don't know if any more will come either. As much as I daydream though, I'll probably think of something. Just keep an eye out and thanks for reading and reviewing! Credit for the "two halves of a whole idiot" line go to Butch Hartman and his lot.  
_

_Those who read and don't review: boo._

_Confused? Questions? Ask me! :)_


	4. Excerpt 4

Slender hands ran though his hair as he let his head fall back against his wife with a deep groan, electric eyes sliding shut as feminine arms wrapped themselves around him. "Hmmm. When did we start playing this game anyway?"

"When you said Adrian Marx was King."

Her voice was light on his ear, and smiling, he chuckled. "And Timmy didn't get it. Right." He shifted to gaze at the warm, winter fairy curled beside him. She was a sweet, gentle creature when she favored him with such compassion, it lingered in her eyes like starlight visible though a storm. Helen of Troy would have such eyes.

"Wishing you hadn't?" A wistful tint blending her words.

"No," his brow creased, unfocused eyes danced forward, "I was right to insist Adrian Marx was King." He glanced back at her, then forward again with, "Elvis Presley, bah!"

Though," this time the ceiling found him, "no, I don't. I'm a fool anyway."

"Oh, Cosmo." Soft lips cradled the bridge between his cheek bone and eye, her breath tickling the fine hairs on his skin. "You're no fool."

Lifting her arms, he turned, pinned, and kissed her, releasing her to brace one arm by her head as the other led his hand in patterns up and down her arm, their breath a warm bubble between them. "I'm a fool for you, baby," the playful grin fell moments later, "and for."

"I know, sweetie, it's okay." Her palms cupped his face. "It's okay."

They pretended they didn't have a baby that night, nor charge of a young boy caught between worlds, there on that couch. If for a moment, that single salt free tear drop in the ocean, they were themselves drifting apart in memories kept alive by faith alone that this is who they are.

* * *

_This is incredibly short considering the rest of what I've written for this series, but the plot bunnies latched onto this like they were starving. Coming in at 301 words it's by all accounts a drabble, but I do have more floating around in my head that I left off because it wouldn't fit the tone at all. Inspiration was a FOP review I read by neoyi over on deviant and her thoughts on the husbands in the show, which made me think of the Oh Yeah! Cartoons pilot episode and the stark contrast between who Cosmo was and now is._

_Adrian "Groucho" Marx has played a king. It was awesome._


End file.
